Pas de deux
by silverfoxpunk
Summary: Stefan and Elena are rehearsing for a school dance, but Damon cuts in.  A little one-shot romance especially for Damon/Elena fans.


**This story is for caffeine2, who as part of a review sent me a song; which got me thinking. I hope you like it.**

_** Pas-de-deux**_

"Oh, I am so sorry!" Elena apologized, after stepping on Stefan's foot for the second time that evening. She sighed. "Why can't I nail this stupid dance?"

"It appears my feet have done something to offend you." Stefan replied mischievously. She smacked him lightly on his arm, then with a sense of renewed vigor, straightened her back and took position again. It was his time to sigh.

"Elena, we have been at this an hour." He grumbled. "Can we do something else?"

"Come on, we keep going until I get it right." She replied.

They were part of a group of couples who had been selected to learn a showcase dance to be filmed for the school's website. The idea was to make Mystic High look a cut above the rest to prospective parents. To nobody's particular surprise, most of the founding families were represented in the couples selected. They had been given some formal lessons where they had been taught the moves, but Elena had missed the first one, and at the second Stefan had confidently assured her that he could do all the dances in his sleep, so they needn't attend again. She suspected it was just an excuse to stay home, but as the deadline approached, panic had set in and she was forcing him to practice. There was only a week before they were supposed to perform it.

She hit the small remote in her hand that controlled her MP3 player and it once again jumped to the start of the song. It was a turgid number, recorded (poorly) by the school band and emailed to all them to download. Stefan stepped forward in time to the beat and Elena stumbled almost immediately. He paused waiting for her to catch up and she snapped at him.

"No, no. Keep going! I'm getting it."

"For a person who was once a cheerleader," Damon interrupted from the upstairs balcony, "I see a surprising lack of coordination."

Stefan looked grateful for the distraction, but Elena, feeling affronted, forced him to keep up with her and they jerked around the floor for a few repetitions. The steps were correct, but they looked horribly inelegant. Damon bounded down the stairs and drained his glass of blood.

"The first problem is," he said walking over to her MP3 player, "the ghastly music." He stopped the band mid flow, selected a song and hit pause before it started. He came over to Elena and Stefan and made to cut in.

"May I?" he asked his brother. Elena rolled her eyes, Stefan looked relieved.

"Be my guest." He said and stepped aside, moving to the corner of the room where he leaned on the wall arms crossed with a smirk on his face.

Damon took the remote from Elena and hit play. The song was Teardrop, by Massive Attack. She thought Bonnie had once sent her the Newton Faulkner version on a Spotify playlist, but she always had liked the original best.

"You know this song?" She nodded. Everybody did, it was the theme tune to _House_, she couldn't hear it without thinking of Hugh Laurie making acerbic comments to some poor patient or another.

He took his hold position, one hand on resting lightly on her back, the other encircling her hand.

"Good. Now forget the steps, you know them already. That is not the problem. The real problem is, is that you modern women don't want to let a man take the lead."

"Oh, really?" she said sarcastically and looked to Stefan for back-up. He looked at his shoes. He wasn't getting involved in _that_ one. Before her righteous temper could flare, Damon shook her gently to get her attention.

"Concentrate!"

She smiled thinking he was kidding around with her playing the role of 'very sensible teacher', but the smile faded when she saw he was being quite serious.

"You think too much. Forget the steps; listen to the music." She glanced over to Stefan for reassurance, but Damon quickly caught the beat of the sad slow song and began moving her to it. She stumbled to catch up and so he held her a little tighter, insisting on more control.

"Stop thinking it: _feel_ it. Listen to the lyrics. Close your eyes. I won't drop you."

She was nervous, but there was something about his tone that made her trust him. His confidence calmed her - she found herself allowing him to move her around the dance space they had created.

She stopped counting steps, stopped thinking about her homework, stopped thinking about picking the car up from the shop, about Jenna and Alaric fighting, her deep routed tiredness and the fact that once, just once, she would like to feel like she was not adrift in the world...

At that moment she fell into his rhythm. Her eyes closed.

_Love, love is a verb_

_Love is a doing word_

_Fearless on my breath_

_Gentle impulsion_

_Shakes me, makes me lighter_

_Fearless on my breath_

There was only the warmth of his palm on hers, his cheek millimeters from hers, the sense of his presence; his closeness.

"I have you… It's okay." He whispered.

All the while he moved her round the room, his hand a steady constant on the small of her back, his fingers gentle but guiding her. The song lifted and swirled about them.

_Water is my eye_

_Most faithful mirror_

_Fearless on my breath_

_Teardrop on the fire_

_Of a confession_

Fearless on my breath

For a moment, she entirely forgot she was dancing, it was as if she was floating. She had forgotten to worry about whether she would bump into the furniture, she was letting him take her wherever he chose.

_Teardrop on the fire_

_Fearless on my breath_

_You're stumbling a little_

_You're stumbling a little_

The song faded out and she found herself almost breathless, not from exertion, but from the spell they had created. They were at a standstill now and she opened her eyes, immediately meeting his. His blue eyes flickered with something dangerously unpredictable; his expression unknowable, but seemingly focused entirely on her. He appeared to be breathing somewhat heavily (an illusion of course), but as he held her gaze she realized he was also holding her closely - rather more closely than he had been before. Her hand in his was tucked in close against his chest, as if she were something fragile, breakable. A second passed that felt like minutes. They had barely a millimeter between their bodies and were looking into each other's eyes trying to fathom what they found there.

Suddenly he moved, spinning her deftly away from him into what was supposed to be the waiting arms of his brother.

"She's all yours!" he said lightly, and at once conveniently breaking the spell as if it had never existed. But it was too late, for they both heard the door slam as Stefan walked out.

Elena stumbled into the empty space where her boyfriend had only moments been before watching and waiting.

Neither knew how to react. Stefan was mostly easy going and rarely lost his temper, for him to walk out meant something. An overwhelming sense of guilt overcame them both; Elena felt tears leap to her eyes. She went to the door and hesitated there, but looked back to where Damon had been stood, although now he too was gone. Her heart ached.

* * *

She had followed neither brother, but had gone home to think things over. Everybody was out and she was grateful to have the place to herself. She had no messages, no emails. Not that she expected any.

Logically, she should have gone after Stefan, found him and told him it was nothing; but she stopped herself. Damon's reaction was the one that consumed her thoughts. When he was hurt, he was dangerous. She had been the sorry witness to that before…

She lay on the bed fully clothed and her mind raced. As soon as it got dark, she had made her decision. She walked out the house and headed to the Salvatore boarding house.

* * *

Stefan had given her a key and she used it now, slipping into the dark house. The first thing she noticed was music coming from upstairs, but otherwise the house seemed exactly as she left it, which she considered to be a very bad omen indeed. With considerable bravery, she ventured up the stairs.

She paused outside of the bedroom door and noticed the sliver of light escaping from beneath it. She could hear strains of Thom Yorke singing at the top of his lungs about losing himself. She took a deep breath and knocked lightly, letting herself in without waiting for an answer.

There was no sign of the man she was here to visit. She frowned.

"What do you want?" came a disembodied voice. She ascertained it was coming from outside. She walked to the full-length window where gauzy curtains drifted gently into the room in response to the evening breeze. She stepped outside and looked up to where Damon was sat on the roof, arms loosely draped around his knees.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be looking for him?" She ignored his tone, and looked to find a way to scramble up beside him. When she slipped, he didn't move a muscle to help her. She gave him a look and he ignored her, staring out instead at the large moon which sat low in the night sky.

She sat next to him and took a moment to breathe in the crisp night air, allowing its sharpness to fill her lungs. They were high up, which she tried to not to think about. She wished she had worn more layers too, but she let all such thoughts drift away as she sat beside him sharing his awkward silence.

"Talk to me, Damon." She said. He refused at first to answer, then said sullenly,

"About what? There is nothing to say."

"I think there is." He looked away, but didn't move. She took this as a sign of progress.

_The raindrops, the raindrops, the raindrops, the raindrops, the raindrops…_

Radiohead insisted.

She let the frantic moment in the music pass and when that song fell into the next, they listening to it all the way through in silence; it was a song with lyrics about the moon. It seemed appropriate; gloomy. As the final strains of it passed away, she reached over and touched his shoulder.

"Damon," she began.

"Don't," he said, shrugging her off. Then tempered it with, "please don't."

He buried his head between his knees. She wavered now; she had been so confident on the way over and had rehearsed what she would say to him, but now she was here looking at him lost and lonely, she was struggling.

"Ok." She said removing her hand. "I'm sorry." She took a breath. "Damon, I love him. I _love_ him."

"That's hardly news." He said, his head still between his knees. She wanted to run her hand over his back, but she resisted. She was a tactile person, not reaching out to touch him was difficult for her.

"Damon, let's not pretend. You know that you and I have some sort of…" she struggled to find the word "connection... But it can only be him."

He said nothing, she continued.

"I'm not _her_, Damon. I'm not wired like that."

"Thank heaven for small mercies." He muttered sarcastically. She chose to ignore him.

She wondered how much to say, but she figured that she had come here to mend this so she may as well be honest. It was time they dealt with this.

"You deserve someone, someone to be with you and to love you -" she began, but he interrupted.

"Just not you." He looked away and bit his lip, he hadn't meant to be so frank, he was furious to have given himself away. She blushed at that, she didn't expect him to say it so bluntly. It was like seeing it written down in black and white, what they both knew but never admitted to. He couldn't look at her and she thought that was maybe a good thing.

_I will eat you alive, I will eat alive, I will eat you alive_

The music continued to drift through the open window. There was something about it which was becoming the unhappy and ironic soundtrack to this conversation. Suddenly, Damon jumped down off the roof and went back into the bedroom.

She struggled to follow behind him, making use of the railings and gingerly stretching to get back inside without falling.

He had slammed open his closet and began rifling violently through the clothes – for what purpose, neither of them knew. She walked slowly up behind him, having no idea what to say.

_We are an accident, waiting, waiting to happen_

The song changed and became something slow and hauntingly beautiful.

"Can I have this dance?" she said. That stopped the frantic rifling dead.

Her heart was beating almost through her chest.

"Damon, please dance with me."

"Don't ask me that." He said, his back still to her. She reached out and gently touched it.

"Dance with me." She repeated, more confident now.

He turned at super speed as if to scare her, getting right up in her face, his eyes showing his true vampire nature.

"_Get out of here!"_ he roared.

But he couldn't scare her; she took his right hand and placed it onto her back, then took hold of his left and slipped her hand into his barely-closed fingers – palm to palm. She could feel him crumble, his outward vampiric appearance receded as quickly as it had appeared. She lay her head in the crook of his collarbone and closed her eyes. They stood there like that for a moment, before he naturally began to move to the music.

The song's pace was languid and allowed them to drift, barely moving at all. Like the last dance at a wedding when everyone is too tired to do anything but hold on to each other.

This time, there was none of the sexual tension she had allowed herself to feel before. She danced with him as a friend - as a brother. She knew it was not the same for him, but this is what she offered him and as they moved in unison, she knew he understood that. The dance was saying all she wanted to say. She let her movement tell him it was ok to feel the way he did about her, but she could never respond.

She felt his hand shaking, no longer assured or confident and she had to lend him her strength to get through. Their bodies moved together and they let the music carry them. But before the next song began to play, they faded to a natural stop. She pulled back from his shoulder and looked into his eyes. They were full of sadness, but the anger was gone.

He leaned forwards and kissed her.

She didn't pull back, move away or respond in any way, but let him rest his lips gently on hers. He dropped her hands and walked away from her, into his bathroom – the only area in this space where he could close the door on her. He pulled it shut behind him without once looking back.

She watched him go, then slipped away out of the room; the touch of his kiss still lingering on her lips. As she closed the door behind her, she raised her hand to rest on it and said a silent goodbye.

* * *

She went home and knew that Stefan would be waiting for her. She found him sat on the end of her bed when she let herself in. He had a surly look on his face, but was calm at least.

"It won't happen again." She said firmly. He nodded, more to himself than her.

"I know." He said, and lifted his arm for her to come and join him.

She collapsed into him and he wrapped her in his arms, kissing the top of her head and holding her close. She had some making up to do, but she knew she was forgiven.

They had each other, but her mind drifted to the other brother. Who did he have?


End file.
